For
some, the annual angst over Thanksgiving is upon us. For years Native American protests that the Holiday represents European
colonialism, American racism, cultural erasure, and actual genocide have begun to register
with many of the rest of the current
inhabitants of this country.
It is hard to deny that our First Nations, as the Canadians
call their aboriginal peoples,
have an excellent point. The
people we call Pilgrims represented the
tip of the spear of a virtual invasion. Despite their reliance on the wisdom and assistance of the natives to survive their first
brutal year at Plymouth and the shared harvest feast they reportedly
had, in less than a generation the settlers
were engaged in brutal warfare
to annihilate or displace their former neighbors.
Growing
numbers are now joining in a boycott of
the holiday and are even joining Native American protests from Plymouth
itself to Seattle. Others, bowing to family pressure show up to dinner
armed with arguments that the whole affair is a racist travesty. Next to those who try and inflict their own brand of religion on a typically diverse American family or bring their political chips-on-the-shoulders to the
table these folks are the cause of
an epidemic of eye-rolling,
groans, and occasional full blown
family drama.
As
if that weren’t enough, there seem to be no end of other reasons to hate on Thanksgiving—the ecological
damage of factory farming, the ethical
and health horrors of carnivorism,
gluttony in the face of a starving
world, wanton consumerism in the
launch of the Holiday shopping season,
and the brutal enjoyment of men hurtling themselves at each other
in a modern re-creation of the Roman
Gladiator spectacles.
Whew! And if all that wasn’t enough, we should not gloat in the embrace of our families and friends because too many are alone.
Now there is more than a kernel of truth to all of these criticisms. And there is
nothing wrong with taking time at the holiday to consider them—and to
consider how we can all do and be better.
On the other hand, there is much to admire in Thanksgiving. First, it
is, after all in its heart, a harvest
festival. Virtually every culture
that has been dependent on agriculture marked the critical completion
of the harvest, which staves off
starvation for another year, with some sort of festival. Just because
we are Americans, doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve a festival,
too.
Second, it is a feast day, something else common to most cultures. Here we
have no other national feast, accessible to all unless you count
burgers and brats on the grill on
Memorial Day. Members of the many religious groups that populate our country may have their
particular feasts—Christmas and Easter, the Passover Seder,
Eid ul-Fitr, Diwali but only Thanksgiving allows us all to gather around one table.
Third, it is our national homecoming, the one day a year when families biological, adoptive, blended, or
self-created come together with all the joy—and occasional drama—that
entails. If it wasn’t for Thanksgiving, we might never see each other
except at funerals.
And finally, Thanksgiving is an occasion to express simple gratitude, surely
one of the most blest and basic of all spiritual practices. It does not require fealty to any God or any form of proscribed prayer. We are free to acknowledge that our lives are blessed in a
thousand ways. We can be grateful to a Creator, the Earth,
or the laboring hands of millions
who together feed, clothe, and shelter us. The recognition
of our common debt to something larger than us is
a very good thing.
So how can we keep the good of Thanksgiving and
our consciences? Well, we can refuse to go shopping
after dinner at that Big Box Store
with the huge sale, log-on
to e-commerce sites, or otherwise opt in to the orgy
of seasonal consumerism.
We can prepare and serve
vegetarian or vegan feast if
that is our preference, or at least
make sure that everyone at the table has good
food that they are comfortable
eating—and refrain for one day
from making snide or judgmental comments on the choices of others. We can turn
off the TV if the orgy of sports offends us. We can make sure we have made room for a homeless, forgotten, or lonely person at our tables instead of just bemoaning their plight. They are remarkable easy to find.
But most of all, we can simply ditch the
whole First Thanksgiving Myth. Because it is just that—a myth and completely
unessential to the tradition.
That meal in the fall of 1621 was not a
Thanksgiving. No one thought it
was. It was meant to consume the
last of the harvest that could not be safely
stored for the starvation time of winter ahead and meat from the fall
hunt that had not been dried and
smoked.
The natives probably invited
themselves to the despair of every goodwife counting the meager larder. At least they did
bring some venison. It was not called a Thanksgiving, a religious
term usually reserved for a day
of fasting and prayer. Nor did it begin any tradition. Indeed, the
whole episode was virtually forgotten within the life time of the participants.
Aside from a brief mention of the
event in an official report to English investors in the colony, which was quickly forgotten on
this side of the Atlantic, there was
no known account of it until Governor
William Bradford’s history
of the colony written twenty years later and presumed to be lost was re-discovered in 1854. He had a one paragraph account of the two
day feast.
We do owe New
Englanders traditions of Thanksgivings and annual post-harvest homecoming, but they were two separate and distinct things not
coming together until late 18th Century.
Their first
declared Thanksgiving Day did not occur until June of 1676 when the governing council of Charlestown, Massachusetts declared a day of Thanksgiving in gratitude for being
delivered from the threat of the Native American rebellion known as King Phillip’s War. It was not a feast day, but a day of fasting and all-day prayer. Thereafter it became more and more common for
New England towns to declare Thanksgiving days at various times of the year to
mark auspicious occasions.
It became customary to proclaim Thanksgivings
at the end of successful harvest years. The dates of these autumn events varied but
tended to be late in the season after all crops were in, the long hunts for
venison and fowl that happened after
the first snow falls were completed, and the coastal waters became too dangerous from storms for small fishing vessels to set out. With all of the men home and idle and
the larder at its peak of the year,
even the dour Puritans transitioned the observances into feasts following a good long church service.
The Puritans forbade the celebration of Christmas, which they considered corrupted by pagan practice and associated
with Papist masses, so the late
season Thanksgivings became an acceptable
substitute early winter festival. As younger
sons emigrated to new lands in the west of Massachusetts, the Connecticut Valley, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont,
and Up-state New York they not only
took the custom with them, they began to try to make pilgrimages home to be with their families.
Still, Thanksgivings—days of fasting and prayer
could, and were proclaimed at any time of the year.
By the time of the American Revolution the New England custom of Thanksgivings were
well established, with a fall harvest event traditional, although celebrated at
various dates by local proclamation. In
October of 1777 New England delegates
to the Continental Congress
convinced that body to proclaim a National
Day of Thanksgiving for the victory of the Continental Army over a British
invasion force from Canada at
the Battle of Saratoga. The proclamation, a one-time event, was the first to extend any Thanksgiving
observation over the whole infant nation.
It was also a day of prayer, rather than feasting.
In 1782 Congress under the Articles of Confederation, proclaimed another Thanksgiving for the
successful conclusion of the War of
Independence. It was signed by John Hanson, as President of Congress, the man some hold up as the true first President of the United States.
Shortly after his inauguration, George Washington, the first President
under the Constitution found himself
under pressure from leaders of the established churches—the Episcopalians
in the South, Quakers in Pennsylvania,
and especially the Standing Order of New
England to affirm a religious basis for the new nation. They were alarmed that the
Constitution had omitted any reference to God.
On the other hand, the growing ranks of dissenting sects—Baptists,
Methodists, Anabaptists of various sorts, Quakers in states in which they were
a minority, and Universalists—as
well a large number of the educated
elite who were steeped in Deism were bitterly opposed
to any breach of what Thomas Jefferson
was already calling “a wall of
separation between church and state.”
Trying to thread
the needle, Washington issued a carefully worded proclamation of National
Thanksgiving for Thursday, November 26, 1789.
He made no mention of Jesus Christ and he only used the word God once. Instead he called for a day of general piety, reflection, and prayer and invoked the broad terms of Deism— “that great and glorious Being who
is the beneficent author of all the good that was, that
is, or that will be,” and the “great Lord
and Ruler of Nations.” Despite
his best intentions, the proclamation satisfied neither side and
drew criticism from both. Washington
tried it one more time in 1795 to even louder complaints. Later, similar proclamations by John Adams were met by literal riots in the streets. After his ascension to the Presidency in the Revolution of 1800, Thomas Jefferson, the champion of religious liberty and separation of
church and state, put an end to these exercises
in public piety.
So, Thanksgiving remained a regional celebration, but one which was spreading rapidly. The New
England Diaspora was rapidly
spreading it throughout the North and into the newly settled lands of Ohio and the Old Northwest Territories.
The introduction of canals, turnpikes,
and railroads which made transportation
easier, cheaper, quicker, and safer increased the homecomings associated with the holiday.
The South was absolutely immune to the charms of the Yankee observation and staunchly
resisted all efforts to introduce it in their region. Christmas was their
holiday of choice and rising sectional
tensions over tariffs, western expansion, and especially slavery made the Southern aristocracy loathe to adopt any whiff
of expanding Yankee influence.
Enter Sarah
Josepha Hale, the editor of the Boston Ladies Magazine, and later Gode’s
Lady’s Book, two of the leading women’s
publications in the country, who thought that whatever the qualms of
the South might be, the creation of regular national Day of Thanksgiving would
help heal the nation and prevent
conflict. She inaugurated a relentless 40 year campaign of editorials and letters to governors, Congressmen, and Presidents promoting a national celebration.
When Governor Bradford’s book was re-discovered and
published it was Hale who created the First Thanksgiving myth from
that one scant paragraph and tied it to the
noble Pilgrims, as the
Plymouth settlers were now called, and their friendly Indian guests. It was a flawless marketing campaign and branding
that in short order convinced the public that there was an unbroken tradition stretching back
to a Pilgrim First Thanksgiving. Although the campaign won wider and wider
support and helped codify traditions
around the observance, no official action was taken until 1862.
In the midst of the Civil War another President with unorthodox religious beliefs, felt the need to unite what was left
of the shattered union. It was a bleak time. Military
disaster seemed to be the rule on every front. Agitation
for peace on terms of
Southern separation was on the increase.
Abraham
Lincoln may not have been much—if any kind—of a traditional Christian. But
he believed in the hand of Providence and more than once contemplated on whether the trials
of the nation were not the just
punishments of that hand. Moreover,
he needed, now more than ever, the support of the powerful Protestant clergy, who had never ceased to agitate for the
return of periodic Thanksgiving proclamations.
So, it was natural that he turned to such a proclamation in the dark hour of 1862. It was that act that would nationalize the holiday permanently and why the celebration today is more Lincoln’s than the Pilgrims’.
Inspired by Washington’s Proclamation, Lincoln
set the last Thursday of November as
the date. He issued fresh proclamations each year of his presidency and all future Chief Executives followed
suit. So did most state governors,
timing their proclamations to the Federal observance. Eventually, if reluctantly, even post-rebellion
Southern States fell into line. By
the early 20th Century the emerging Fundamentalists of the Bible Belt would become among the most ardent supporters of the Holiday but
insisting that it be imbued with specifically Christian trappings.
Still, for all of its wide-spread observation,
Thanksgiving was not yet an annual,
repeating national holiday. It
remained dependent on new yearly Presidential proclamations. After his election, Franklin D. Roosevelt proposed the establishment of a Federal Holiday. Congress, worried about the expense of paying Federal employees for
a day off work, ignored his
plea. So, Roosevelt continued to follow
precedent. But in 1939 with the nation
struggling to get out of the second dip
of the Great Depression, Roosevelt
took advantage of the five Thursdays in November that year and Proclaimed Thanksgiving
for the Fourth Thursday instead of
the last to extend the shopping season and boost
lagging sales. He made it clear that
he intended to keep his proclamations at the second-to-last Thursday through his presidency.
The change immediately became a political hot potato. Republicans
charged that FDR was desecrating the
memory of Lincoln. Preachers decried the secularizations of “our ancient sacred holiday.” Twenty-two states followed the President’s
lead. Most of the rest issued their
proclamations for the last Thursday. Texas, unable to decide kept both
days. The later celebration was referred
to as Republican Thanksgiving while
the earlier one was derided as Franksgiving. In 1940 and ’41 FDR stayed true to his
promise and issued proclamations for the next to last Thursday, continuing the
confusion and controversy.
In 1941 both Houses of Congress voted to create
an annual Federal Holliday on the last Thursday in November beginning in 1942
but in December the Senate changed
that to the fourth Thursday, which is usually, but not always, the last
one of the month.
By the 1950’s many employers and school districts were also giving the Friday after Thanksgiving off
with pay. The creation of a wide-spread four day weekend led to
even more long distance travel for family reunions. And soon Friday was the busiest shopping day of the year, eventually dubbed Black Friday because it was supposedly
the first day of the calendar year when most retailers finally entered
black ink.
So, there you have it. Despite the ubiquitous presence of
Pilgrims and smiling Indians in school
pageants and commercials, they
really don’t have much to do with the actual tradition of Thanksgiving. Then why not, at long last dispose of
them. Disassociate them from
Thanksgiving. Suddenly our traditional
harvest, homecoming, and gratitude feast has nothing to do with colonialism and
genocide. Maybe we can all sit down
together in peace—at least until drunk
uncle Morrie starts up about what a great President Donald Trump was.
Thank you. I’m struggling today because of many of the themes you introduced in the opening paragraph. And also missing family members who will not share space with one another. And deeply grieving my beloved dog who passed a few short days ago. Your words always help me feel connected to a community of like minds. You sir are a blessing.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your well thought out words. I’m suffering today wishing for the thanksgivings past when my grown children would gather around the same table and I ignorantly enjoyed the pilgrims/Indian myth. And today I grieve my sweet dog who passed a few days ago.
ReplyDeleteYour writing helped me to realize how really heavy my thoughts are. I also feel connected to another from reading what you wrote. Thank you.